Chapter Two: Some Diplomacy Attempted

Cullen had attended plenty of balls before – there had been a fair number of fancy gatherings like this in Kirkwall – but this was the first time he didn't have much of a mission. Leliana's finest intelligence hadn't turned up a single threat. It was as though all of Thedas, worn out from the threat posed by Corypheus, had decided to set aside their quarrels and intrigue for one night.

Was it so impossible to believe that this was a simple social occasion, nothing more? At best, the Inquisitor was here to find a suitable husband, maybe. She didn't need a delegation with her for that. Cullen suspected she simply wanted company for moral support.

Good use of an Inquisition, Cullen thought, unsure if he was being sarcastic or serious. Probably a bit of both. Inquisition humor was rubbing off on him.

At this point, though, their role was largely decorative. Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine were very capably steering the Inquisitor from one gentleman to the next. Varric had in fact been accosted by several loyal readers, and judging by the crowd he was currently regaling, he was winning over many more. Only Cullen and Blackwall hovered together uncertainly, with little to say to each other but no real reason to split up.

"Is it just me, or are people giving me strange looks?" Cullen said in a low voice, after a moment.

Blackwall considered him for a moment, studying his face. Then he shrugged. "Last year you were one of Thedas' most eligible bachelors. Now you're the husband of Cassandra Pentaghast. Even these people notice things like that."

It seemed true, and at the same time, not quite right as an explanation. A minute later, he felt someone else staring at him – a woman with strikingly blue eyes and rather little tact. He blinked, and realized it was Hawke. With her was Fenris, holding a glass of wine in each hand. Presumably one was Hawke's, but that wasn't necessarily the case.

Hawke, evidently feeling guilty for having been caught staring, said far too jovially, "Commander Cullen! It's you!"

"Hawke, Fenris," he said, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. "What brings you here tonight?"

Fenris drew himself up in indignation, though the effort caused him to sway a little. "Why shouldn't we be here? We were invited."

"We were?" Hawke said.

"Hush, love," Fenris said benignantly. "In any case, we just came to dance. They can't have us thrown out for that."

"We're fantastic dancers," Hawke said confidently.

"I look forward to watching you," Cullen said, unable to suppress a smile. "Until then." He hurried off, leaving the two of them to their tipsy logic.

Cullen wondered if the Inquisitor would devolve into that level of eccentricity, given time. Did that happen to heroes? He thought of Leliana's Grey Warden husband, a complete recluse, searching for years for a way to reverse the Calling – an impossible task if there ever was one. But then, Cassandra was the same, just irritable if anyone brought up the fact that she'd once saved Divine Beatrix from an army of dragons. Perhaps fame only intensified who you already were, forced it out into the open.

He looked across the room for Cassandra, missing her so much that it made his chest hurt. She was dealing with a stooped, elderly man who was trying to attract the Inquisitor's attention. Telling him to move on.

Cullen smiled to himself. The line between hilarity and absurdity was a thin one in Orlais, and it seemed that not everyone could see it. No wonder Cassandra hated these things so much.

A bell rang, and the crowd rearranged itself to make way for the official presentations. This year, the Inquisition's official delegation was only a party of two – one that just so happened to comprise of the woman who'd saved Queen Celene along with most of Thedas, along with one Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast-Rutherford.

Cullen beamed as Cassandra stepped forward and curtsied, graceful as always. Ever measuring up to the task at hand, however she felt about it. Afterwards, conversing in a smaller group with Celene and several Orlesian nobles, she still looked achingly beautiful. She was also beginning to look quietly murderous.

A servant passed by, carrying a tray loaded with champagne flutes. Cullen took two quickly and, holding them aloft, made eye contact with Cassandra across the room. She regarded him stonily for a moment, then bent to whisper in Josephine's ear. The other woman nodded, and Cassandra ducked out of the group, reappearing by Cullen's side.

"You look like you could do with some air," he said. "Shall we step outside?"

"Just for a moment," she said curtly, but she looked relieved.

They walked out to a balcony overlooking the central courtyard, the leaves of the trees shining darkly and the fountains splashing diamonds on the tiles. He passed Cassandra a glass, and she tipped it back, breathing deeply between sips. Her lipstick left the imprint of her lips on the rim of the glass.

"What do you think of the suitors so far?" he asked in a low voice. They weren't alone on the balcony; the people here could know the suitors, or be among the suitors themselves.

Cassandra was silent for a moment. She finished her champagne and set the glass down with a determined clink. Cullen sensed she was trying to find a diplomatic answer, for once. The ball must really be having a powerful effect on her. "None of them is an assassin," she said at last.

"I'm looking a bit more favorably upon Blackwall myself," Cullen said, only half joking.

Her lip curled. "I do not like liars."

"You like Varric now," Cullen teased.

"That is different," Cassandra snapped. "He is not making advances towards the Inquisitor. If he did, I would break both his legs."

"And you would look very beautiful doing it in this dress," Cullen said softly.

She glowered at her empty glass. "My shoulders ache, I can barely breathe, running is quite impossible… And it was a dreadful ordeal getting it on."

"Oh?"

She smiled then, a trace of her good humor returning. "Oh, yes. I'll be very glad when you take it off."

"Mm, I have considered it," he said. "But I'm enjoying it so much right now."

He took a step back to drink in the sight of her. She scowled fiercely. "Stop teasing me. You really brought me out here just to talk?"

He grinned. "If I'm not allowed to touch…"

She seized him by the collar and kissed him. He let his hands roam over her body then, heedless of who might be watching. He could feel the hollow curve of her spine through that glorious gown, a welcome difference from her usual armor. The stays on the back of her dress were tied tightly, but they ended in a soft golden bow that positively cried out to be undone. He made a mental note to return to it later. Though the sheer volume of her skirt kept him from getting as close as would have liked, he made sure to be attentive to every inch of her that he could reach, which was a great deal, and yet nowhere near enough.

Distantly, a bell sounded. Cassandra pulled back. "Damn it," she said, panting. "The dancing is about to start. I have to go."

He released her, reluctantly. She glared at him. "You don't know what it does to me, to see you like this." She gestured to his own clothes, slightly wrinkled now.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Cullen said gravely. "Should I leave?"

Cassandra looked as though she couldn't decide if she should kiss him or hit him. In the end, she did both. "Don't you dare. You are the only reason why any of this is bearable."

"The night is young. Anything could happen. You might even have a little fun," he said cheerfully, and Cassandra made a disgusted noise as they headed back towards the ballroom arm in arm.

A/N: If you could spare a moment to comment, I'd really love to hear from you! Hope you're enjoying this, and thanks again for reading!